


The Eyes are the Windows to the Soul

by MeiMeiAiyou



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, hey hit me with your worst, idk this is my first time, idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:12:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeiMeiAiyou/pseuds/MeiMeiAiyou
Summary: From the top of the mountain to the bottom of Hell, it sounds like Hephaestus' story but less elegant and more bloodshed.





	The Eyes are the Windows to the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by something I saw a long time ago, I don't remember exactly what it was, If I plagiarised your work please don't hesitate to tell me @EmperorZYX_ in twt, I'll take it down immediately.

It was like a switch was flipped, he just woke up. Just like that, he just…woke up. With no memory. The ceiling moves upwards, fluorescent lights accented with red, the oppressive kind, decorated the mouldings. So, he’s on a bed, the kind you see in a hospital. There were ladies in white, four of them, pushing his bed. They had red visors, the same colour as the light mouldings. Just seeing them makes his head spin.

_“Hyung, just be careful…”_

A man with a face of a joker appears, he looks around frantically, well, as much as his paralysed body can allow him. He was only surrounded by red-white walls and female nurses that don’t even look like _actual_ nurses, there was no male within a kilometre radius from him.

_“Gege. I’m sorry…”_

Another voice appeared, different from the previous one. He sees a slim face, he looked like someone that could kill you but he feels like the man -or boy- is scared of a bathroom mirror.

_“Duizhang…!”_

He feels like he’s said this before. He doesn’t know to who he’s referring to and doesn’t know when this happens. Nonetheless, a man with the bushiest eyebrows he’s ever seen appear behind his eyelids, the man has a solemn look on his face. He feels guilty all of a sudden.

_“Yi-Hyung…!”_

_“I’m counting on you…”_

_“Thank you, sunbae-nim…”_

_“I’ll be alright…”_

_“Look, Yi-… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your suitcase…”_

_“Where’s the trust…?!”_

_“Xiexie, Yi-…gong…”_

_“So that’s how you say it…”_

More and more faces appear, a man that looks old enough to be his father, a man with a soft yet firm expression on his face, a man with a face that could rival angels, a man with the biggest eyes Asian genetics can give… so many, yet, he doesn’t feel overwhelmed, he feels…happy, content. He’s never felt this before, at least for now.

But these _nurses_ are dampening his spirits. He has no idea what they do but for sure they mean trouble. What can a 20-something-year-old man do? He’s sure he’s seen them somewhere, images of massive bulky looking hand-held machines, that balance on a gyroscope, enter his mind, eight other faces enter too. Flowers, dancing, pianos, laughing, green outfits… an essay? In a… the thing that glows white in a darkened room.

The lights start flickering. The _nurses_ visibly panic, they look at one another and, as if in a silent agreement, they hasten their pace. The ground starts shaking, the wind picks up…

Wait…

Wind? In a corridor with doors leading to unknown rooms and an unsurprising lack of windows? He knows he’s stepped into the supernatural. The _nurses_ are practically running as if the Devil was right behind them. They’re good, but he’s seen better… somewhere…

The lights are put out. The _nurses_ grind to a halt. Then the most miraculous thing happened. Tiny lights, the size of a pinhead, float around them, their faces are painted with fear and amazement. He’s amazed too. Then all of a sudden lightning struck all of them. They crumple to the ground and disintegrate then, like dust in the air, they fade away. He rises from his bed and takes a good look at his captors, or what's left of them, he feels like he should be responsible for their deaths, but he isn’t. He feels elated. He feels powerful. Something inside him tells him that it is wrong, that he should be guilty, but he isn’t.

He breaks into a run, into a random direction he randomly picked. More and more of those _nurses_ appear to block his path and they all fail spectacularly at their task. One disintegrated into ash, one was pushed back, even though he was at least five meters away from her, one’s head exploded into a ball of fire, another’s head exploded with an epic electrical display.

He can see a door. Something in his head says that that door is his ticket to freedom. Men in white drop from the ceiling, raising their rifles at him. He feels no emotion, no guilt for what he’s about to do. The men drop to the ground, clutching their necks, clawing their necks. He wasn’t restricting their airflow, he’s decaying their oesophaguses. They all drown in their blood even some were escaping their lips. The _nurses_ arrived but this time they hold rifles. They all pulled their triggers but he wasn’t harmed. They all shot at the spot where he was at just mere microseconds ago. They all those blood red three-dimensional polygons that were left in his wake. He opened the doors, but not before imploding their skulls and crushing their brains.

The rain was falling and lightning made an impressive display as he was walking out. But, he felt…incomplete. He needed to torch something. This facility will be a great place for his first _campfire_. Holding up his dominant hand towards the facility he willed it to catch fire, and it did. The fire raged, consuming everything in its path. Screams of the _nurses_ and soldiers and _doctors_ fill the air, he feels no sympathy for them. They ruined his entire life. A life he forgot.

上瘾

He was walking for hours on end. Yet, his legs weren’t aching. He’s not tired at all. He stumbled into a small cottage, unoccupied for several months. He entered. Walking through the hallway all he saw were the dust gathering on the floor. The kitchen was his first stop, he might not feel tired but he sure was hungry. Things in the cupboards and drawers are expired but he feels that they won’t affect him too much. As he was walking to the living room a mirror caught his attention.

He never expected bright red eyes to reflect back, he was sure that they were a dark brown or something, his jet-black hair was swept to one side, two dimples appeared on his cheeks but one was stubborn enough to show even though he was practically glaring at it. But what really attracted his gaze was his clothing, a pristine white trench coat, pristine white pants and shoes like he never went into a one-sided bloody battle and walking through the wilderness and a pristine white shirt with a high collar. And the number 10 stitched dead centre on the collar. He’s seen this before.

Instead of _marvelling_ at how he looks in the mirror (which somehow reminds him of a gigantic baby with large ears), he continues on to the living room. Even with the home being unoccupied for months, it was in a good condition. It felt like someone was living in here. He turned the television on (how did he know that?). News of fires erupted in some remote area kilometres away from Seoul (so he was in South Korea…), it technically wasn’t _news_ to him. He switched to a random channel, some music channel. It interested him, he had never been interested in it. He left the channel there and proceeded to raid the only bedroom in the cottage.

_Look, I’m the lead sheep in China._

_What can I say, man?_

_Sen lin li tou, be careful bro_

_Po huai sheng wu lian wei xian all around_

_Attack? (attack) No pretend? (pretend)_

_Ok you don’t know (you don’t know)_

_That’s how the story goes (oh no)_

Interesting… he’s heard this before. He understands the language, he’s never heard someone speak in this language in a long, long, long time. He walks out of the bedroom as he was adjusting his new (for him) mustard yellow turtleneck. But what greeted him made him stop in his tracks.

He sees his face. Smiling, dancing in a variety of outfits, dancing in a… _microwave(?)_ , singing about sheep? What is this?

Only when the music video ends are when his questions get answered.

A video compilation. Starting from April 2012 to August 2018, starting from October 1991 to August 2018. He sits on the one-seater couch, unable to comprehend what in the world is going on.

_“Hyung always works hard…”_

_“He always makes us smile…”_

_“We’ll miss our Lay-Hyunggie…”_

_“I… don’t know…”_

_“I wish I said something nice before he left…”_

_“He_ had _always encouraged me to do my own album…”_

_“Its… hard. For all of us. But. Chen and Xiumin-hyung have it worse…”_

_“. . . Ge. . . Ge. . .”_

8 people show up on screen, the same 8 people that entered his consciousness back in the _laboratory_. He feels conflicted. Guilty. Ashamed. He doesn’t even know them. Why would he feel guilty about them?

_“…to my brothers in Korea. I miss you too…”_

_“…from 120 to 100 to 60 to 24 to 12. Eliminating someone every week…”_

_“Trainee life was once my normal life…”_

_“A dream is a crown. It is beautiful but heavy. You, alone, must bear the consequences…”_

What was this? Some kind of test? Has he properly escaped his prison? Why are tears running down his face?

The video kept on going. To _him_ in a Changshan, begging in front of a gate. To _him_ playing with a baby. To _him_ dancing on a stage. To _him,_ singing, smiling, playing the guitar and piano. To _him_ playing around with the other 11 people. To him literally crying.

The tears rolled down. Unrestrained. Unchecked. No holding back.

_Zhang Yixing_

_October 7, 1991 – August 15, 2018_

_Another star has joined our sky._

_We’ll miss you._

_We are one. No matter where you are._

Hunched over his seat. Hands clasped in anxiety. Tears falling. Body shaking. Shivering. _He’s Zhang Yixing_. _Dead for weeks. A former K-pop idol from the group EXO. China’s most well-rounded artist. Go Fighting’s youngest member. And he’s dead._ Looking at the ground beneath his feet. He can’t come back to society like this. He’s dead. He can’t go back to Changsha. He’s dead. He can’t face his former members. He’s dead. He is restricted to the rules of life and death. He can’t do a lot of things because, **_goddammit_** , he’s fucking dead. Looking back up at the television. _Promise_ started playing. The Chinese version of _Promise_. Composed and written by him. One of the few songs he just remembered.

 _Yixing_ is conflicted. Pushing a hand through his hair, he thinks. How can he go back? How can he protect the ones he loves?

Yixing runs to the bedroom to snatch a pen on the bedside table and paper in one of its drawers and starts writing down a plan.

1) Change name

2) Buy contacts

3) Find an apartment, preferably close to EXO’s dorm

4) Find a way to survive

5) Live

IMPORTANT: Don’t get caught!!

Looking at this it looks like it was going to be easy, but he -Yixing- knew that it is easier written than done.

宇宙

Stealing for contact lenses were never going to be on his agenda. Ever. But with these new circumstances, he has to. Breaking into the shopping mall was easier than he thought, but if he was going to steal one he’d either: stop time or cut electricity. Yixing did both, to be absolutely safe.

Stealing a face mask would be a good choice to do too. And just like stealing contacts. It wasn’t that hard. Well. Maybe except for that night duty guard that had to be knocked unconscious, for some reason.

Also, maybe stealing some clothes won’t hurt.

十二月的奇迹

Living in an abandoned cottage will eventually get boring, Yixing knows that. To counter his not-yet-existing boredom, he took up odd jobs around the outskirts of Seoul. And by doing that he was noticed by his _former_ (he can’t truly bear calling them former though) fans. Gifts started swarming him even before he could explain himself. Antis and doubters always, somehow, finding him. He knew he had to go underground. But not before an EXO member saw him as he was about to go home _the normal way_.

“Hyung…? That _is_ you, right?” The man said. Yixing knows of him. Park Chanyeol. ’92 liner, rapper, songwriter, and a terrible dancer according to the rest of EXO.

“…I‘m sorry.” He replied, “I’m not him.” It hurts to lie. But he has to. To keep them safe.

“I know…” Tears started to pool in Chanyeol’s eyes. It hurts.

“If you want,” Yixing opened his arms wide open, “You can. I won’t judge.” It hurts.

Chanyeol runs into his arms. It hurts. Chanyeol buries his head into the crook of his neck, even though their height differences make it awkward. Knowing what to do, he embraces Chanyeol. It hurts so much.

“Cry all you want. Your Hyung wouldn’t want you guys to be sad.” _It hurts **so** much_. Chanyeol nods.

Pushing his hand through Chanyeol’s hair and placing a chaste kiss on his forehead before placing his chin on his head, Yixing promises to himself. He promises from the bottom of his heart that he’ll protect them from all things.

“Thank you.”

低吼

Months have gone by since his escape and everyone still hasn’t recovered properly from his “death”. Meanwhile, Yixing has been very busy these days. Gone are the days of him performing on stage, he’s performing on a different stage now. The stage of the Seoul Underworld. Back then he would pale when news of any underworld would up in the television, but now he doesn’t. He doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he kills. The things you do for love.

He’s a natural. The moment he killed the first target he became infamous. The man died suddenly after a lengthy interrogation. No marks on nor in his body. He didn’t bother wearing his contacts, Yixing believes the Bright Red eyes adds to the fear factor, and he was right. The second job was harder, his employer said that it’d take a month prep, and he finished it in a week. Surveillance scavenged by police revealed nothing on Yixing, just tapes of the victim’s dealings. The third job was harder than the last two, and still, Yixing defied the odds. The jobs started trickling in, and of course, Yixing being Yixing didn’t accept it all. Predators are beautiful, too beautiful in his case, but it shouldn’t overwhelm an ecosystem. The money he received are either; used to buy his necessities and wants or given to charity. He’s a weird one, according to his competitors but his employers will want the best.

Many times he’s been cornered, not by his victims but by his competitors. Most of them are veterans in the field. Yixing humours them, letting them hit him before discovering that it is futile to go against him and he lets them go. The veterans are proud to call him the best. The younger ones, however, are a different story. They envy him. They plan hastily. Too many loopholes in their plans. Only the most sadistic of competitors bring out the bad side of him and those are the youngsters. Killed without remorse. Electrocuted, set on fire, buried alive, drowned, frozen, death by asphyxiation, crushed skulls.

The youngsters fear him but not as much as the Korean government. They don’t know him, for sure, but the work he’s done confuses them. Some die naturally. Cardiac arrest, cancer, pneumonia, car crashes, suicide. The others just die without reason. The hastened ageing process, no marks on nor in the body. But one thing connects them all. The recordings of his interrogations. Some can pass as a journalist interviews, some can pass as notes for a biography, the others are full on interrogations.

The people who survived him start calling him names, ‘The Devil’s the fan favourite. But ‘Red Eye’s what he calls himself.

The money earns do mostly go to his needs, like food, water, and clothes, and wants, like to feed his sudden re-interest in music, or charity if he’s got too much. But usually, he uses it to travel back and forth between China and South Korea. Commissioning a fake passport wasn’t that hard. He checks his family, to see if they are safe, visiting them every time he’s available. He checks with Yifan, Luhan (the most), and Zitao. Same reasons.

Visiting EXO is hard. He’s practically living in a penthouse on the complete opposite side of the city from the group’s dorm. He always stares longingly at the dorm from the coffee shop he and Minseok-ge used to frequent. He checks up on them, stopping time to visit the old practice room, to visit the make-up room in music shows, award shows, and concerts.

Once, he visited the dorm. It looks neat and tidy, too neat and tidy. Minseok-ge’s stressed again too stressed. His old room’s been left untouched, except the bedsheets, they changed it. It's fine by him. His guitar’s leaning on the bed frame, the bags too. Looking down at the bedside table he noticed a bracelet, inscribed on it was ‘ _我们是一个_ ’. ‘ _We are one_ ’. Yixing chuckles. The beagle line must have left it there for him. He took it and wore it. Yixing knows that they’ll worry about the bracelet and decides on leaving them one last message.

“ _谢谢你，每个人。我爱你所有，总是和永远。_ ” Was left on the refrigerator door.

On the other side of the law, he’s known as Hong Chengnuo. A Chinese music exchange student from Beijing and a doppelganger of the late Zhang Yixing. It feels weird to be compared with yourself. Even weirder was to see flowers and letters scattered around the Chinese Embassy every day now.

勋章

Rumblings in the underworld weren’t that surprising. Sometimes their targets are high-profile, from to politicians to would-be-dictators to idols, though the latter were usually the foreigners that did not stop some (like the Super Junior car crash from years ago). Now the rumblings have reached his ears, an attack on Kim Junmyeon. EXO’s Suho. The employer was Yixing’s sasaeng. _His_ sasaeng. The hitman was relatively new to the field, probably wanted to make a name for himself by killing an extremely high-profile target. Hacking into the hitman’s, a Chinese-Korean man by the name of Jin Pantu or Kim Bantu, systems weren’t that hard. The plans were very simple. Kill him in public, in a concert or a performance for Music Bank. Yixing knows that he should stop Pantu, if not for himself then for EXO.

The first attack was in the Music Bank show. Security was very tight, he leaked information regarding the attack on Suho, thankfully the authorities took it seriously it. For the entire performance, he kept his eyes on Pantu and, for Pantu’s own sake, the said man did not raise his gun. The second attack was in EXO’s first concert in Seoul, in Gocheok Sky Dome. This time he had to stop Pantu himself, the first attack was thought to be a fluke.

For the entirety of the concert, the man did not raise his gun. He plans to kill Suho during the ending ment. Heartless son of a bitch. He was a few metres away from Pantu, he can’t walk up to him and start a brawl and he can’t just stand and watch, obviously. He has to use his powers.

_‘Don’t do it, Jin Pantu.’_

The man looked around, swinging his head from side to side. Yixing smells his fear. Yixing feels his unstable mind.

_‘If you do it. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’_

Yixing gives Pantu credit. The man ignored his message just now, that leaves him no choice. Pantu was raising his gun and Yixing stays in place, he looked calm on the outside until you look down to see two fingers, outstretched and hidden from view and pointing at Pantu. The man was visibly struggling. Pantu felt a heavy hand on his arm yet no one was there in front of him that was facing his way. He tried to move his head yet another heavy hand prevented him.

_‘I told you to not do it, Kim Bantu.’_

A human only has two hands, right? He tries to move his left hand to take the gun. He celebrated too early. A third heavy hand stopped him before he could take the gun away from his right hand.

_‘Don’t test my patience. It’s running thin.’_

The ending ment went without a hitch. Except for the tears shed by everyone. ‘For Yixing’ Xiumin-ge had said.

Yixing was surprised that there was a third attack. Yet the earth does not lie to him. He was busy with planning an assassination, of some mafia lord that killed innocents, left, right and centre when he felt the earth tell him.

_Pantu’s back._

_The assassin._

_Suho._

_He plans to kill._

_Tonight._

Without hesitation, he runs to his balcony and jumps. He’s done this many times before. After, dissolving into random Vantablack polygons he scatters himself. This depletes his power but by splitting up he can find Pantu and Junmyeon faster.

And not a moment too soon, he hears screams, of someone being dragged. Junmyeon. Landing on a rooftop that overlooks the alleyway he observes while gathering himself. Pantu has a handkerchief, most probably laced with sedatives or poison. Junmyeon was struggling in Pantu’s grip. Brows furrowed he studies closer. Junmyeon was in a defensive stance. A stance he’s seen Zitao do. The younger man taught Junmyeon this stance, but it was not enough. Where Junmyeon lacks in strength Pantu has, where Pantu lacks in height Junmyeon has. Wasting no time, he jumps down.

Pantu immediately looks back, instinctively raising his arms to protect his face. What greeted him surprised him. Jet black hair, black pants, white turtleneck, and the bright red eyes.

_‘I told you not to do it.’_

“Yet you decided not to heed my warnings.”

The assassin was confused, disoriented. He hears a voice in his head and a voice filtering through his ears.

“Who are you?” the assassin asks, his brain decided to shut down on him.

_‘You know who I am.’_

Yixing shot forward. Immediately doing for Pantu’s pressure points. The assassin defends himself, blocking or parrying the oncoming attacks. Yixing decides to switch tactics, the man starts kicking towards his face and stomach. Some of them land some of them are deflected. Pantu punches him straight to the gut, ironically, Yixing didn’t have enough time to react and the punch landed. Doubling back in pain, Yixing reaches for the baton he keeps on his person and launches forward. Pantu didn’t know the man could be this fast but he knew he was faster. Blocking the path of the baton with his arms were easy but the assassin did not take into account the strength the baton landed on his arms. His arms snapped in half bending in an unnatural way, he panicked.

Yixing wasn’t holding back in all aspects during the fight. Maybe a little. Okay, maybe a lot. It was instinctive for him to hold back after numerous attempts on his life. He was playing with them, as he did with Pantu. Looking down at him he notices the bruises on his arms. They were almost bright purple. The assassin was snivelling on the ground, he tried to clutch his arms or what remained of them.

“You deserve a painful death.”

Yixing hastened Pantu’s age and left him to suffer multiple diseases at once without taking out the pain they induced. The man sprinted towards Junmyeon, who was barely conscious. It was poison.

Junmyeon raised his head to look at his saviour. His saviour looked familiar. An Angel from Heaven. Yixing.

“Yi. . . xing?” He coughed out with blood.

He slowly drifts away, barely holding on.

_‘Stay.’_

Junmyeon fights the darkness to look at the man in the eye. The man looks like Yixing and sounds like Yixing. But he knows it isn’t Yixing.

The darkness threatens to take him, and he lets it. Maybe he’ll be able to apologize to Yixing when he sees him on the other side.

_‘Stay. Please. Junmyeon. Please.’_

失控

“Hey… How are you?” The voice was hazy at best but it was still recognizable.

“Hyung, the doctor said that Junmyeon-hyung inhaled a lot of that poison. He may not even be conscious yet.” The second voice was too, who are they?

Junmyeon groaned in bed before opening his eyes. The lights were dimmed but it was clear that the ceiling was white, he looked out the window to see that it was already evening. How long had he been in a bed? What’s the time? Who are they?

“Junmyeon... we’re here.” The first voice said again, Junmyeon turned his head towards the voice hoping to see his saviour but it was only Minseok-hyung.

“Hos... pital?” Junmyeon croaked out, voice hoarse with disuse.

“Yeah,” the second voice replied, Jongdae, “We were worried when you didn’t answer your phone. Where were you?”

“Dae-ah, don’t force him...”

“Hyung! We lost. . . everyone! Everyone! It is my right to be worried!”

Jongdae made sense. They lost Kris, Luhan, Tao and Yixing, the entire China-line. The first three were lost to the lawsuits and mistreatment, Yixing was lost through fate. There is a twisted sense of comfort in knowing that Yixing died happily.

“I was. . . out.”

“ _Out_ , he says,” Jongdae deadpans, “ _OUT!_ You could’ve died hyung!”

“Jongdae!” Minseok-hyung now raises his voice, something that was rare way back when but a common sight since. . . since then.

“We. . . we could’ve lost you.” Jongdae cried out, tears falling freely on his face. Minseok-hyung seemed to agree in his silence.

The silence was deafening. Raw emotions circle the room. Anger, regret, sadness, relief. These emotions have encircled all of them, all of EXO, especially Minseok-hyung and Jongdae. As Xiumin and Chen, as former members of EXO-M, they lost a lot. As Minseok and Jongdae, they lost a lot more. The both of them lost people they debuted with -lost friends, lost family- first Kris then Luhan then Tao and now, Yixing. Junmyeon may be biased but Yixing sacrificed a lot for EXO. Travelling back and forth between South Korea and China, promoting in China by himself, even forced to sit in the sidelines during filming. When Kris left he became the _Duizhang_ , when Luhan left he became the lead vocalist of M, when Tao left he became the rapper and now, he left, leaving Minseok and Jongdae behind.

“Remember when Chanyeol met his doppelganger?” Minseok-hyung asks suddenly, breaking the silence that was threatening to kill Junmyeon, “Chanyeol said that he said that ‘Your Hyung wouldn’t want you guys to be sad.’ Right?” the remaining two nodded.

“And we’ll do just that,” Minseok-hyung looked outside, “Yixing. . . would want us to continue music in his stead.” Jongdae was wiping his tears now but Junmyeon can’t, he felt responsible for everything.

“Hyung. . .”

“It’s my fault isn’t?” he whispers, barely audible, “First Kris then Luhan then Tao, now it's Yixing.”

“Junmyeon. . . don’t-”

“It is though, hyung!” the hoarse voice makes it sound more sinister, “It’s all mine.”

Silence.

It was a hard pill to swallow, some haven’t finished swallowing it.

“Hong Yanjing.”

Both Minseok and Junmyeon turn to Jongdae, “His name. Your – our saviour.”

羊

Management forced them to take leave for 4 months. After the attack on Junmyeon, every Entertainment Company from JYP to Pledis to BigHit to Jellyfish had their idols rest and recuperate, even for a few days. Sympathies and apologies have come EXO’s way after Junmyeon’s recovery and now Baekhyun is making sure to have a little fun.

Walking in a park in broad daylight was a risk of getting surrounded by fans and paparazzi but it was safe as well if one was attacked it would be seen by everyone. Sitting on a swing by in the playground, back hunched and head down made him feel like he was shooting a regular EXO Christmas song, sad and melancholy. There were a lot of people than he expected, children were playing by the slides, students in study groups, adults rushing to work, it felt like nothing happened like it was a normal day. To him, it wasn’t. Yixing’s birthday was today. The entire Chingu line had planned an entire party for the Chinese man. It now seems like their plans would never ever bore fruit, but that didn’t stop Byun Baekhyun, in his hands was a gift inside a ring and a matching one with each other’s names and two identical chains, one for each ring.

Soon enough Baekhyun felt eyes on him, he looked up to see a man in an ashen grey trench coat, black turtleneck, and black pants, Baekhyun chuckles darkly. Yixing’s style of fashion. The face he didn’t account for, the jet-black hair, the dimple just poking through his left cheek and the droopy eyes. Yixing. He was here. Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be. . .?

The angel smiles, the other dimple showing itself, the mismatched eyes of chocolate brown and bright red made beautiful crescents on his face. _Yixing_ smiles brightly, _Yixing_ smiles to say that he’s okay, Yixing smiles so Baekhyun can smile. That smile was bright, brighter than the winter sun, brighter than the summer sun, brighter than any star in the sky. Yixing smiles until he disappears behind a crowd of people that walked in between them.

The look the angel sent before he smiled was cold, emotionless, heartless but Baekhyun doesn’t feel like he’s in danger, doesn’t feel oppressed, the look was enough to kill gods but instead, Baekhyun feels safe, protected like he has a guardian angel just right there by his side. Like Yixing was by his side.

In his sleep, Baekhyun dreams of the days when EXO was one. Dreams of guitars and pianos. Dreams of music and concerts and, most especially, he dreams of Yixing. The angel smiles as he hugs and kiss and gropes his ass. The angel smiles as he places a ring on his finger, the same ring he has around his neck, it’s pair was left in that playground. Unknowing to Baekhyun, the pair was right behind him, clasped around a neck, his pair was sifting his hand through his hair pulling him to a more deeper sleep. His angel smiles as his own angel sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story I've posted and this was written in early 2018 please forgive me. Don't hesitate to tell me how bad I am at writing. Criticism is always welcome.
> 
> also
> 
> EFF YOU SIFRA


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